Road(kill) Trip – by Lindsey Harrington

I’ve hummed every song I can think of, twice, and almost chewed myself a new haircut.

Tiny Smuggler – by N.E. Rule

“You’ve already searched me and found nothing,” Sam says.

I Miss the Stars – by Melissa Grace Reeve

In the summer, it’s not dark until well after he should be asleep in bed.

When Will You Drink from Me Again? – by Valerie Hickey

I arrive in a midnight storm bursting from an angry cloud

Ice Fishing – by Stephen Garrett

Eventually, the trees end abruptly and you are at the lake, an expanse of white, bounded by trees and ice-encrusted granite.

Don’t Be A Beethoven – by Allie Guilderson

Listening to Morgan playing through her pieces, I began to feel that familiar jealousy creepy into my stomach.

Upstream – by Ramona Eloise

When I was fourteen—no, thirteen (gee, maybe even earlier?), the chronic pain began.

Ditchmoss – by Andrew Shaughnessy

On the day in question, the four seniors, packing cellophane bags of caramel corn, presented themselves at the circus tent early to take their seats in the back row of the floor section adjacent to the centre ring. A family of four was in the front row, trying to settle twin four-year-old boys each seized with fear at being so close to the action. Hank studied the scene as if this were one of the circus acts.

Where We Have to Go – by Lindsey Harrington

We queue up with all the semis, car carriers full of souped-up SUVs, reefers of Mexican spinach and sweet peas, empty logging trucks, and full livestock trailers. And us, with our secret cargo.

Little Cabin in the Woods – by Andrew Shaughnessy

There was no trailhead. Rather, I should say that if there was a trailhead, we couldn’t find it. I grabbed the metallic tube that my parents called a ‘torch’ to join Bill in the search. I flicked it on only to realize that, compared to Bill’s floodlight, my flashlight had the candlepower of, well, a candle.